


1950

by Scotland_Axel (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Small Towns, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Scotland_Axel
Summary: An extended version of a drabble I wrote. Sam is a cook in the fifties and Steve is an officer who takes to walking him safely to work everyday. They fall in love and have to fight to keep what they have safe from hatred and persecution.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam steadily ignores the taunts and slurs thrown his way as he walks to work. He's used to it by now. However he's never been actively targeted before, and by the same group of teens at that. He guesses since it's the weekend and school is out they don't have anything better to do than call him a coon and nigger. When the cop car pulls to the curb in front of him Sam's heart actually clenches in fear as the front door is opened and a tall man steps out.

His shoulders are wide and he removes his hat as he steps onto the sidewalk, revealing a full head of blonde hair and blue eyes. He scowls fiercely at the boys sitting on the hood of their car parked in the grass. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Billy?" He points to each of them in turn and says, "I know every single one of your mothers and I won't hesitate to give them a call if you don't get your dumb asses out of here and go read a goddamn book."

"We're just having a little fun, Mr. Rogers." One of them smiles, spreading his arms wide. 

Sam wouldn't stop to watch the interaction if Mr. Rogers wasn't blocking his path, and he'll be damned to ask him to move. He wasn't raised stupid and he's not built upon anger no matter how justified like some other men he knows. 

"It doesn't look like fun to me. I meant what I said. Get off that hood and drive yourselves home." 

The group groans as they do as told and Steve shouts for them to shut up. They climb into their car and start the engine, driving into the street and leaving Sam alone at last. He watches their tail lights disappear and turns back to see the officer looking at him apologetically. 

"I'm sorry about that. The name's Steve." He thrusts his hand out and Sam starts at it. Steve laughs uneasily and shakes his head, "C'mon, I won't hurt ya."

Sam tries to smile as he fits his hand into the one offered to him and shakes it. "Sam. Most men wouldn't want our skin to touch."

"Most men are pieces of shit. My mother always told me that." 

Sam laughs and Steve smiles brighter, resting his hands on his belt. "Do they bother you a lot?"

"Almost every mornin' like clockwork. Thank you, but I have a job to get to."

"Oh, alright."

Steve steps aside and Sam walks past him, after a few paces he turns to the officer still next to him and Steve looks up and his eyes widen as if he's just remembered something.

"Oh, I hope it's alright if I just walk you there."

"If you got the time, Mister." 

Steve nods and Sam shrugs -- it's his decision. When they get to the door of the black diner Sam cooks in Steve shakes his hand one more time and lets him enter.

He's not five paces into the place when the bell above the door chimes again and Steve's head is tipped in.

"Wait!"

His face flushes red and he nods at the one woman who's sitting in a corner booth. "Where do you live, Sam?"

Sam frowns but repeats his address anyway. Steve nods at him again with a smile and waves a hand, bidding a good morning to the old woman before ducking back out of the diner and walking back the way he came.

* * *

 

The next morning Sam opens the door to Steve leaning against the railing of his porch, his cap held in his hands and his left foot crossed over the right. He looks up at him when the door creaks open and smiles. 

Sam shakes his head at him and steps out, taking the time to lock the door behind him. 

"I told you my address, not the time I start to leave for work."

"I found the address you gave me and walked to your work place again to get the time. Simple police work is what we call it."

"So are you going to walk me to work every day now?"

"Well you said those kids bother you just about every day and so I thought," Steve shrugs and pulls his cap on, "Why not?"

Sam looks around him to the cop car parked on his street, and points to it. "We could drive, y'know."

"We could."

Sam feels a slow smile coming over him as Steve remains rooted to his spot. "You don't want to?"

"I won't get to glare at those boys if we do."

Sam laughs at that and nods his head towards the front steps. "C'mon then." 

The two of them walk the fifteen minute route side-by-side and when they come to the teens again Steve glares at them as promised and Sam laughs again. Steve opens the door of the diner for him and nods.

"Same time next morning then, Sam."

"Sure thing."

* * *

And as promised every morning Sam opens his door to Steve waiting there patiently as ever, ready to walk him to work. After a few weeks of this Sam doesn't mention the lack of teenage boys and neither does Steve. He knows if he did say something the cop would probably just come up with some reason as to why their morning walk should continue. 

And every time Steve opens the door for him Sam notices it looks like he wants to say something else, and every morning he grits his teeth and just says "Have a good morning."

Sam's finishing up in the kitchen and getting ready to lock the place up when he hears the bell chime above the door. 

"We're closed!" He calls out, turning off the light and moving out of the kitchen. He freezes when he sees Steve standing in front of the door, his fingers inching around the rim of his hat nervously and a red flush dancing high on his cheeks.

"Oh, hey Steve. If you want something I guess I could manage just this once."

"I don't want anything Sam. I just wanted to say I can't walk you to work anymore."

"Oh. Can I ask why?"

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. "I can I just- it's not right, y'know? Not for the reasons you'd think either. I'm not racist, I'm just something else that I...shouldn't be, and I don't want to make it any harder on you so I'm bowing out just this once."

Sam throws his rag down and jogs up to the man, taking his arm and walking him out the front door, stopping to turn the lights off. Sam locks the door with his key and turns back to Steve.

"Just give me a drive home and we can talk about whatever you're not supposed to be, alright?"

Steve nods, still fiddling with his cap before throwing it on and digging his keys out of his pocket. He opens the front door for Sam and waits for him to climb in before shutting it and running around to the driver's side. Sam doesn't think much about the fact Steve avoids looking at him too often other than that it further confirms what he thinks Steve is talking about. 

As soon as they pull up to his house Sam opens his door before Steve can do it for him and walks up his front steps to unlock his door. He pushes it open and turns to make sure Steve is still behind him before nodding his head inside for him to follow. 

Steve shuts the door behind him, locks it, and sits down at the small round table in Sam's kitchen. Sam puts a kettle of tea on and joins him. Steve's taken his cap off to rest it on the table and his hands are threaded together on top of it. Despite his calm demeanor Sam can see the panic and weariness in Steve's eyes and reaches out beneath the table to squeeze the muscle of Steve's thigh.

"Steve?"

"I've always known it about myself. It's nothing new -- I've felt this way before. I got beat up as a kid for looking at my friends in ways I shouldn't, and I guess I should've thought twice about befriending you, but I didn't, and it's too late for regret now. I don't want to make things any harder for you, Sam, so I'm not expecting anything. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"You haven't made me uncomfortable, Steve. I know exactly what you're talking about."

Steve looks up at him then, fear still firmly rooted in his blue eyes. He stiffens when Sam shifts closer and puts his arm around his neck, but a breath leaves Steve as Sam pulls him into a hug and his body goes lax.

Sam closes his eyes and brushes his fingers along the strands of Steve's hair, letting the officer turn to press his lips along the hollow of his throat. He feels the man swallow against him and Steve's knee moves to press firmly against his. 

"Thank you." 

Sam doesn't reply other than to hold him tighter. Steve slips away to lean their heads together, his eyes flickering between Sam's lips and his eyes before nudging forward to kiss him softly and tentative. As soon as Sam reciprocates Steve's hands are reaching and grabbing at him, pulling him out of his chair and onto his lap. Steve nips at his lips and Sam wrenches himself away for a breath.

"I want you something fierce, Sam." 

"You can have me."

And so Steve does, standing up with Sam firmly in his arms and Sam directing him to the bedroom. 

In the middle of the night with Sam's head pillowed on Steve's chest they both are thinking the same thing: this won't be easy. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's stirring eggs in the pan when Steve shuffles out of the bedroom in nothing but Sam's unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders, his left hand scratching at the bit of hair covering his chest. 

He flips the eggs a little and watches Steve lean his weight against one of his dining chairs, his lips pursed in thought and his brows furrowed.

"So how do you want to do this?" He asks.

Sam rolls his eyes at his pronoun game and slips the eggs onto a plate. "Do what, exactly? Make eggs -- I scramble them, problem solved."

Steve laughs and shakes his head, motioning between them. "No, Sam, this. How are we going to do this and get away with it?"

"I don't know. It'd be hard enough if we were both white, but as you can see I got a little burnt somewhere around the way."

Steve smiles at him and walks forward to slip his arms around his waist, pulling the lobe of his ear between his teeth. "You can't burn chocolate, Sam. It just melts for you, and then it's even more delicious."

"You're sappy, anyone ever tell you that?" Sam asks, removing strips of thick bacon from the package and slapping it onto the pan to sizzle. 

"I haven't really been with anyone enough to, no." 

Sam just grunts and Steve gives his hips a squeeze before going back to straddle a chair and watch him make their breakfast. 

"At least it's Saturday. That gives us some time to figure this out, I guess."

"I go back to work at noon, but we're closed on Sundays. Too many black folks love Jesus for that day to do us any good."

Sam smiles at him as Steve laughs again. 

"You're funny, Sam, so funny. Y'know, maybe it doesn't have to be this hard. Maybe if I only come around at night we can get away with it, and none will be the wiser."

Steve stands up and moves to peak out his blinds, "Are your neighbors particularly nosy?"

"No. And even if they were I see enough to know some of them are just as gay as we are."

"I go both ways actually." 

"Really?"

Steve nods, turning away from the window and crossing his arms. "Yeah. I had an arrangement with a coworker before I started walking you to work everyday. Then it just didn't feel right."

"What's her name?"

"Peggy. She's a fellow officer -- damn good one too. Could you do me a favor? I know I'm asking a lot here, but-"

"Spit it out, Steve."

"Can you fry some bologna for me? I love that." 

"Sure, if you get it out the fridge."

Steve kisses his cheek as he crosses the kitchen and pulls out a few slices to slap down next to the bacon. 

* * *

 

They eat their breakfast in silence, the morning news drawing on in the background. Sam takes a draw of his coffee and finally looks over to Steve who's determined to stare a hole into his forehead apparently. 

He smiles despite himself and shrugs, "What?"

"Nothing." Steve replies, stabbing at his eggs and stuffing his mouth again. "You're just somethin' pretty to look at, that's all."

"Oh, is that all I am, 'something pretty to look at?'" 

"No. You cook good too."

"Officer, I have half a mind to kick you out of my damn house." Sam replies, grinning as Steve lowers his head and laughs, a blush riding high on his cheeks. 

They both pause however when Sam's doorbell sounds. 

"I'll get it."

"Should I hide or something?"

"Don't be stupid, finish your food."

Sam gets up to open the door and sees his friends Rhodes and Misty. They both slip past him into the living room but stop at seeing Steve calmly eating in the kitchen. 

Rhodes turns to him with a raised eyebrow and Misty cocks her hip out. He points at the man unashamedly, "Who the fuck is the white dude?"

Steve laughs and chokes on his toast before swallowing and waving a hand. "Steve Rogers, resident police officer, lover, white dude." 

Misty saunters up to him and takes Sam's seat, snatching a slice of bacon off Steve's plate even though Sam knows darn well she's a vegetarian. 

"Oh, so the white dude has jokes, huh? Wanna explain what's going on here, Sam, or is it pretty much exactly what it looks like?"

"And what does it look like?" Sam asks, coming over to join them and lean against his own kitchen counter.

"That you got some white dick last night and didn't feel the need to kick him out afterwards."

Sam walks over behind Steve, placing his hands on his shoulders and bending over to kiss the crown of his head. "Then I guess it's what it looks like."

Misty laughs and Rhodes smiles at him knowingly, sitting down on his couch. 

Sam snatches back Steve's piece of bacon and drops it on the man's plate. "And don't be wastin' my damn bacon."

Misty waves her hands innocently. "Ok, ok. So when did this start exactly? Is this the police officer who you told us about -- goin' crazy over those racist kids just to walk you to work everyday?"

"Yeah." Steve pipes up, "I am. And I can speak too, y'know." 

"It started last night, that's all. You guys are kind of crashing our morning after party, but hey, at least you brought wine." Sam says, and Rhodes holds up the bottle from his place on the sofa.

"Misty thought we could spend the day playing poker and then go out for a night. Are you cool with that, Steve?"

"Hell yeah, I love poker. I'm not very good though." 

Rhodes smiles and Sam shakes his head. He leans down and whispers against Steve's ear, "He's gonna eat you alive for that, baby."

"Don't worry about me, sugar."

Misty rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at them, turning over her shoulder to Rhodes. "Aren't they disgusting? They have pet names already."

* * *

 

Steve's smiling happily as he rakes the pile in from the middle of the table and Rhodey's just shaking his head.

"I hate to tell you this Sam, but you're fucking a damn liar."

Sam laughs and nudges Steve's leg with his own under the table, "I know."

"C'mon," Steve says, grinning at them all, "I only lie when it suits me. I had to make you think I wasn't a threat."

"Bullshit." Misty gripes, her arms crossed over her chest. 

"Let's play again, I'll go easy on you."

Rhodey leans forward dangerously. "Don't you fucking dare."

The foursome play until Sam has to leave for work, finishing up the game as he gets dressed in the bedroom. Rhodey only wins because Steve distracts himself by always looking back at the door anxiously.

When Sam comes back out he's buttoning up his shirt and leans down to give Steve a kiss on the lips as soon as he tips his head back in asking. 

"Should I walk you, or just wait here? Or I could go home if you like, see you tomorrow or on Monday."

"No, I wantcha here when I get back. I'll be fine -- those boys haven't shown up in weeks." He turns to his friends, "Keep 'im company, alright? And go easy on 'im for God's sake." 

And with one last kiss Sam's out the door.

Steve turns to Misty and Rhode's serious mugs across from him and sighs. "Alright, I know what comes next. I've done enough interrogations to get the gist, so just go ahead, huh?"

"You ever laid with a black man, Steve?"

He shakes his head, "Nope, Sam would be the first." 

"But you have been with a man before." Misty more states than asks. Steve simply nods. 

"Well, Sam's been our friend since we were all in diapers and you better not hurt him or  _get_ him hurt. Because Rhodey may give a shit, but I don't and I will fuck your skinny white ass up."

"Understood. I would never hurt him, and I hope nothing bad comes of him while we're together or I'll walk away myself. Are we good?" Steve asks, looking between the both of them with his hands spread.

"Yeah, we're good."

"Great. So do you guys want to play another game? I'm pretty good at Egyptian Rat Slap."

"You're on."

* * *

 

Sam's shift is an easy one with few customers, and after Sal leaves to call it a night at five thirty he starts to lock up the restaurant himself. He steps out into the cool air just begetting evening and turns the key in the lock. 

As he starts to walk down the sidewalk a sharp whistle sounds from his left and Sam turns to see none other than Billy and his damn posse again, leaning against his tonker toy of a car.

"Where's your bodyguard, Wilson?"

"Minding his own business tonight. Something I can help you with?"

"Yeah, actually there is, you colored son of a bitch." 

Billy puts his cigarette out in the grass and slowly makes his way towards him. Sam sighs and squares his shoulders, looks down the pathway and considers running towards home to avoid what he knows is to come.

"You made a mistake leaving Officer Rogers away." 

"Go ahead and do what you're going to do, Billy boy. I don't care. It's not gonna make you any more of a man or any less of a right pain in my ass."

Sam squares his jaw when the first punch comes and curls into a ball as all the boys descend on him at once in some mad frenzy. He's kind of surprised as they stomp on him that it doesn't hurt as much as he had expected. He's been beaten worse. And when someone's porch light comes on across the street they all dash to Billy's car and their tires go screeching off to their safe white suburb. 

Taking a moment to simply breathe and feel the forming bruises on his forearms and back Sam waits before slowly making his way to his feet and calmly continuing his way back home. 

The door is unlocked when he arrives and he enters his house to the smell of home cooked food and the sound of something sizzling on his stove top.

He drags his feet across the living room to the kitchen and grabs an ice pack out the freezer, ignoring the hello Steve gives him until he closes the door and the man gasps.

"Sam, what the fuck happened to you? Did those little punks do this? Dammit, I  _knew_ I should've walked you there. God _dammit_." 

Steve guides him to sit down at his own table and takes the ice pack in his hand, holding it to his bruised jaw while inspecting the damage. Sam just closes his eyes and breathes steadily. It's nothing he isn't used to. It's not as if he hasn't been beaten within an inch of his life before simply for existing. 

Steve walks briskly down the hall to the bathroom. He returns with neospirin, bandages and pain killers. Sam wearily watches him fill a glass of water before handing it to him, shaking out three pills. He swallows them obediently and raises his arms when Steve starts to peel his shirts off of him. The cop drags the other chair over to sit in front of him and starts to dab neospirin in the worst cuts and scrapes, a frown on his face the whole time.

"I don't care how old they are I'm going to arrest them tomorrow. They don't get to get away with this shit. Their mommas are gonna come down on me for it though."

"No one gives a shit about some black guy, Steve."

He shrugs as if it's a non-issue. "Then I'll lie on the report -- I've done it before."

"You have? When?"

"In situations just like these, when I knew I couldn't make an arrest for some black guy getting beat up so I made it a white man. Assault is assault, but the law doesn't see it like that." 

Steve gets up and moves around to get the cuts on his back and Sam closes his eyes drowsily. 

"Thanks for making dinner. No one's ever cooked for me before."

"It's the least I could do. Just tell me one thing, Sam."

"What?"

"Why didn't you run?"

"I'm not gonna run from a bunch of fucking kids."

Steve finishes patching him up and returns to his cooking. "What, because of some dumb pride? Sam. Sam, look at me."

He looks up obediently to Steve's hard stare, his face somber. "Next time something like this happens? You run. Do it for me if you have to. But run." 

Sam nods and dozes off in the next second, only waking up with the clatter of his plate being set in front of him. Steve sits at his side and gives his hand a squeeze before starting to eat. 

After the meal is over and they're lying idly in bed Steve whispers, "I should go soon. I have to get home. Neighbors probably wondering where I am. I'll see you tomorrow though, ok?"

"Alright. Drive safe."

Steve nods and Sam tips up to kiss him goodbye before rolling off of his chest and watching Steve dress up in his uniform again. When his front door clicks shut Sam breathes out a sigh and digs his fists into his eyes.

Sometimes he can't believe the things he gets himself into.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve turns off the engine after pulling into his apartment's parking lot and sits idly with the keys in his hand. He tries to let the want seep out of him, but the ache he has for Sam seems determined to stay curled tightly within his chest. For a moment he can even see himself driving back there to hold the man again. But at last he doesn't. 

With a heavy sigh Steve opens the door and climbs out, locking it behind him before jogging up the short flight of stairs to his front door. He frowns to find it unlocked and turns on the light in the foyer. As he walks through the place his hand finds its way to his sidearm, but he relaxes as soon as he enters his bedroom and sees her there. 

Peggy is curled up in his sheets, looking at him blearily with sleep. 

Steve takes off his hat and belt, starts to undress himself. "What are you doing here, Pegs?"

"You said you'd go out on patrol with me on Saturday."

"Shit. I'm sorry. It completely slipped my mind. Why didn't you call me?"

She shrugs and sits up, the sheets pooling in her lap. "I figured you must have a good reason to skip out on me."

Steve smiles smugly and slips his shirt off over his shoulders, "I did."

"With whom, might I ask?"

He shakes his head wearily and sits at the foot of his bed to take his boots off. "If I start talking about him I'll never stop." 

She shoves him with a playful smile and they laugh together. "That serious, huh?" 

"Well...not really, not yet, but I have no doubts it'll get there." Steve muses a hand through his hair and looks dazedly at the carpeted floor. "It's scary how easily I could love him, Peggy. I don't even know if I'd fall or-" He snaps his fingers, "All of the sudden he's my everything, you know?"

She frowns at him and scoots closer. "I'm sensing a big 'but' coming. What is it? Other than you being two men together?"

"He's black. And he's beautiful that way, it's just the world will never say the same. Even worse is I think he's kind of given up on the hope that they ever will. His name is Sam, and he got jumped this night -- didn't even run away. And when I asked him why he just looked so tired." Steve shakes his head and Peggy runs her hand up his spine as a sense of fear wells up in him. "I don't want anything bad to happen before we even get the chance to begin."

"It won't. I won't let it, and neither will you. C'mon let's go to sleep. It's always better in the morning."

Steve doesn't bother arguing with that and finishes undressing himself, leaving his boxers on. They both crawl back under the blankets and Steve kisses Peggy's forehead before turning his back to her and falling deep into sleep.

* * *

 

When he wakes up the next morning Peggy's already gone being the natural early riser she is. He lethargically drags himself through the motions of morning and the only thing that brings a smile to his face is the fact he remembers Sam at least has a day off today. 

Since he didn't go in Saturday though, Steve has to put in a little time this weekend, and he looks forward to filing a report against Billy and his idiot friends. 

He drives by Sam's house though just because he can, even if it's out of his way and nowhere near the station. 

Not many of his fellow officers show up today when Steve gets there, briskly walking to his desk and getting started on his reports -- the only work he's truly planning on doing today before making his way back to Sam.

He's already busy filling things out when someone clears their throat above him and Steve looks up to the unimpressed expression of Chief Danvers.

"Hey, Carol."

"Don't 'hey' me, where were you yesterday, Steve?"

Carol sits down with a mischievous smile and Steve laughs to himself. "Don't tell me Peggy hasn't already told you."

"She has, but she also said you got the most star-struck look on your face when you spoke about him, and her acting skills aren't all that. Go ahead."

Steve fiddles with his pen and continues his work, smiling despite himself. "Well, his name is Sam. He's a cook. His skin is beautiful too, smooth to the touch and  _ warm _ in ways we'll  _ never  _ be."

Carol whistles low and Steve feels his neck heat beneath the collar of his uniform. "Peggy was right, you really do look like some blushing schoolgirl -- who would've thought?" Her gaze becomes more serious and she jerks her chin at the report before him.

"Who are you filing that against?"

"Billy and his dumb ass friends."

"They're kids, Steve. What'd they do?"

"Aggravated assault, that's what. I'm hoping a night in jail might scare them off from doing any more."

"Is that all you're doing today?"

"I was planning on it, yeah."

She grins at him and Steve blushes again. "You miss him, don't you?"

"And so what if I do?"

Carol doesn't do more than smile, fixing her hat over her blonde hair and winking at him before strutting back to her office. 

Steve sighs and continues with his work quickly in hopes of getting out of here even faster. He'll just make the arrest tomorrow morning. 

It takes him a good thirty minutes to fill everything out and hand it in to Carol. 

She winks at him again, "Go get him, tiger."

"Shut up." He mumbles, smoothing his uniform down and quickly making his escape.

* * *

 

Steve takes his normal car to Sam's place this time --  not wanting to attract any attention to them in broad daylight. He's changed into a striped sweater and creased slacks. 

Sam opens the door in a robe and looks surprised to see him for a few moments before stepping aside and letting Steve slip in, looking out after him for any bystanders. 

Steve guesses he finds none when he closes and locks the door. Sam walks past him to the kitchen.

"I made you a plate if you want it."

Steve's heart seizes at the statement and he almost tips over. "You did?"

"Yeah," Sam says, turning around from the fridge with a plate covered in saran wrap. He slides it onto the dining table and Steve walks over to kiss him nice and slow. 

His hands come up to squeeze Sam's hips, and Steve pushes until Sam falls against his fridge, trailing his touch down his thighs and hiking them up easily. 

Sam laughs against him and Steve smiles. 

"Someone's feeling a little frisky, huh?"

"Yeah. I think I should work up an appetite first, don't you?"

Sam shakes his head, "I'm not voicing any complaints." 

And Steve sinks against him to take his lips once more, holding Sam easily in his arms and carrying him off to bed. 

Sam falls to his mattress with a laugh, lifting his hips up as Steve unties his robe and shoves it out the way. He can hardly let himself breathe, he's kissing Sam so much, but Steve feels he can't help it.

"You miss me? I missed you." Steve kisses down the curlicues of hair on Sam's chest and rubs his hands along his hips.

"We were only apart for a night and morning, Steve. I don't think that's long enough to miss anyone yet."

He looks up at him and pauses. "But did you?"

Sam stares at him levelly for some time before breaking into a smile and reaching for him eagerly, "Yeah, I kind of did." 

Steve kneels up and lets Sam take his sweet time in undressing him, his eyes hooded and playful. 

"Now, the first time we did this we went slow." 

"You want to go fast this time?" 

Sam bites his lip and nods, pushing Steve's shirt down his shoulders and off his arms, moving on to unbuckling his belt and pants. 

"We should role play sometime -- act like you're a cop you know?"

"We don't have to  _act_ , I really am one." Steve laughs.

Sam swats at him and he chuckles some more. "You know what I mean. Can I hold your gun sometime?"

"And here I thought you didn't give a hoot about me being an officer of the law. Where was all this excitement the first night?"

Sam shrugs and tugs him down to lay against him, "I don't like to show all my cards at once."

Steve hums in response as he sinks between Sam's spread legs, sliding his hands beneath the muscles of his back and moaning as they come together. Sam reaches over to his night stand and snatches the canister of petroleum jelly, pressing it into Steve's palm.

He nuzzles into Sam's neck and lets his lover paint his own in kisses as he unscrews the top and dips two of his fingers in before sliding them down and circling Sam's entrance. Neither of them wanting to take their time, Sam thrusts his hips out and Steve curls in his pointer finger, pushing it in for a few moments before Sam hips hitch again and he adds another obediently. 

He looks up at Sam's peaceful expression, his eyes closed and his breathing soft as his fingers scissor and delve into him. Steve can tell by the little whines Sam's making that he's getting impatient, so he fits in another third digit for only a short time before taking another swipe of jelly to fist over his aching cock. 

"Okay, baby." He breathes, kissing Sam briefly because he's so close and settling even more against him. "You ready?"

"Go ahead." 

With that Steve holds him close and slides into him easily, the two men groaning out together as they join. Steve moans against the tight heat surrounding him and when nails dig into the flesh of his ass he happily presses forward with his hips. 

Sam's head falls back against the pillow with a moan and Steve pulls out slowly, teasing himself by only keeping the head in before sliding back home. As he picks up speed and rhythm they start to moan in tandem and Steve can feel the oncoming swell of pleasure building inside him. 

"You feel so good Sam, so good like..." He shoves in again and shudders when Sam squeezes him with a cheeky grin. 

"Like what?"

"Heaven. Though on account of this I bet some people'd say I'll never get there."

Sam's eyebrows raise and he lets out a loud laugh. Steve's just as surprised by it and his hips stop for a moment before continuing on. 

"I'm serious." He says through a smile, stopping himself until Sam opens his eyes and looks at him again.

"I know, Steve, I know. That's what makes it funny." Sam looks up at him and smooths his hand down his jaw. 

"Don't believe that shit. There's nothing wrong with us, or this. Just like there's nothing wrong with my skin. We're fine." 

"Okay, yeah, fine." He nods more to himself than Sam, "I got you." 

Steve kind of forgets the moment and is jarred back into it when Sam starts moving himself along his dick, making him suck in a breath and moan at the sight. He gets back into it soon enough, balling his fists into the sheets and grinding his hips forward relentlessly until Sam starts making those keening whimpers he loves so much and his own balls start drawing tight against him. 

Steve moves a hand to Sam's erection and pulls at it only a few times before he's emptying between them with a whine, his face screwed up so pretty Steve's end takes him by surprise; and, he holds Sam's ass tight to his hips as he spills inside him. 

Steve curses wearily and slides out of him, kneeling back to watch his end trickle out. Sam smiles at him knowingly and he blushes, rolling off the bed to grab a washcloth to clean them up with. 

"Are you hungry now?"

"Yeah, I am. Can I eat in here?"

Sam sucks his teeth and sits up. "You've never dated a black man before so I'll let this slide, but there's three things you need to know." He holds up a finger, "You don't change a black man's radio, you don't put your feet on a black man's couch, and you don't eat in a black man's bed. So that's a no."

Steve laughs and Sam gives him a fond smile. "I'll try to keep all that in mind."

Sam hums to himself and goes to lay back down. Steve clears his throat and nervously wrings his hands. 

"Well, I was wondering if you'd come out to the kitchen then, give me something pretty to look at while I eat, or keep me company."

He can feel the blush burning his cheeks the longer Sam stares at him, and his shoulders sag in relief when Sam swings his feet to the floor.

"You're lucky you're so cute when you blush or I'd say no."

Sam pinches his cheek as he walks past him and Steve smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's more angst to come but not this time. thought i'd give y'all a little break. just don't forget what year they're in.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Steve's expecting the calls when they come. The phone's ringing off the hook with all of Billy's gang's moms. They're all pissed of course, especially about the fact they were taken in during school in front of their peers. That particular happenstance wasn't part of Steve's plan, but when he thinks back to last night when he had pulled Sam closer by the waist and he had winced, the guilt dries up quick.

He nods his head as Mrs. Wheeler continues to berate him over the phone.

“Mmhm, well if it means anything I never ordered anyone to arrest them during school hours. I know they were embarrassed, but I'm sure the man they assaulted was embarrassed too if not more than.”

“Jett told me they assaulted a black man, and the last time I checked that wasn't a crime, but more of a social service.”

Steve scowls, his pen squeaking in his clenched fist at the thought of Sam's assault being anything near to a “social service.”

“Okay, Mrs. Wheeler, I'm not going to deny that's true because it is, but what your little shit of a son did,” She gasps, but Steve plows on, “over the weekend was a far cry from being a social service, and that's why we put him in handcuffs. It was a black man walking home on a Sunday night, minding his own damn business. Now tell your friends to stop calling me. You can come pick up your fucking delinquent at the county jail whenever you like, and that's all the information I owe you. And Karen? The next time you think of something that racist to say to me, you can take that bullshit and shove it right back down your pretty mouth.”

Steve slams the phone back down on the receiver, Karen's shocked gasp the last thing he hears. Ignoring the stares from his fellow officers Steve leans back in his chair with a deep sigh and runs tired hands over his face.

She could file a complaint about it being a black man, but Steve knows she won't. He's pretty sure he's scared her away from any ideas like that. He drops his head into his hands and sighs, not looking up until a hand claps on his shoulder.

Steve drags his eyes up to Chief Danvers and she gives him a sympathetic smile. “Filed the report, huh? I’m guessing you angered a lot of suburban housewives that way.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” He groans.

“Well, one of the good things about a town as quiet as ours is it’s quiet. You can go home if you want, or go to him.”

Steve smiles at her and at the idea, but shakes his head, “It’s Monday — he’s working.”

“What’s he do that you can’t sit around and distract him a little bit?”

“He’s the cook down at the diner. You know the one, the-”  
Carol’s eyebrows rise and her brown eyes fill with astonishment, “the _best_ diner in town? _You’re_ fucking the man who makes a quiche better than my mother?”

Steve rolls his eyes with a laugh, “Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.”

“In that case you better leave before I join you myself. I will steal that man right out from under you, Rogers, so go.”

Steve laughs, and gathers his things before standing. He leans forward to peck Carol on the cheek, “Thanks for talking me into it.”

She winks as he turns to walk out the station, forcing himself not to skip or jog to his car. Steve slides cooly behind the wheel and puts her in gear, pulling out of the station’s parking lot and driving across town to Darnell’s Diner.

While he’s sitting out front Steve tosses his hat into the backseat, loosens his tie to pull it over his head, and unbuttons the rest of his navy blue uniform shirt. Steve unbuckles his belt and holster next, leaving him in a white undershirt, navy blue slacks and shiny black shoes. Steve hopes it’s not still painfully obvious he’s an officer as he climbs out of his car and opens the diner’s front door, the bell chiming above him.

The patrons inside smile or nod at him and Steve responds with both in kind.

“Welcome to Darnell’s!” Sam shouts, and Steve can only see his back through the little kitchen window.

Steve knows he must be grinning like an idiot as he makes his way to the bar — the closest to the window.

“What can I-” Sam voice trails off when he turns around and locks eyes on him, “...get you?”

Steve only grins brighter when Sam glares at him, but there’s amusement there too.

“Ste-Rogers, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing much, how about you?”

“I hate you.” Sam points his spatula at him, and Steve chuckles, “If you don’t-”

“Hey, who is _this?_ ”

Steve turns to a young woman holding an empty dinner plate, the waitress then. Her eyes give him a very interested once-over, and Steve grits his teeth as a blush floods his cheeks from his neck.

She saunters forward and lays a pretty brown hand on Steve’s. All he can think though is that her skin isn’t nearly as dark and beautiful as Sam’s.

“Sam,” She flicks her eyes to him, “Introduce us please.”

“That’s Steve, Valkyrie.” Then he leans towards the window and whispers, “And get your paws off him cause he’s spoken for.”

Steve’s cheeks burn hotter, but his stomach does too, pleased as punch about Sam’s words.

The hand lifts from his own and Valkyrie turns to Sam. “So _this_ is the man everyone’s been talking about. He _is_ as attractive as they said too, you gotta be to get Misty to admit it.”

Sam sucks his teeth, and gestures to Steve who’s now hunched his shoulders up to his ears, “Yes, now stop embarrassing the man before his hair turns red too. Here.”

Sam puts up two plates of hot, steaming food and rings his bell. “Go do your damn job.”

Steve watches Valkyrie take the plates, sticking her tongue out at Sam as she goes to deliver them. He sighs once she’s gone, letting his shoulders drop back down. “Thanks.” He breathes.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. But really, Steve, what are you doing here?”

“I told you, nothing. It was either do nothing down at the station or do nothing here with you, and we both know which one I chose.”

Sam smirks at him and Steve mimes a kiss Sam shimmies his shoulders at. Steve laughs again, drumming his fingers against the countertop.

“I filed the report, they’re in holding.” Steve says, wanting Sam to know.

The man sighs deeply before coming out of the kitchen, walking behind the bar. Steve watches silently for his reaction as he grabs a coffee pot, pours some into a mug and sets it in front of him.

“They’re just kids, Steve, doing the same shit they’re parents taught them was right.”

Steve pulls the hot cup closer to himself, and shakes his head, “Then I’m going to be the man who teaches them it’s wrong. Because someone’s got to. Thanks by the way.”

“Thanks to you too, for righting the wrongs of the world.” Sam replies, his tone saying he’s no doubt needling Steve a little bit, but he can tell he’s still genuine in his appreciation.

Sam walks back into the kitchen, and Steve groans around the first sip of his coffee at the sight of the apron tied above his backside. Sam snorts at him. “How long are you staying?”

“How long are you working?” Steve replies.

“Randy comes in to take my shift at five, which means I have to survive the lunch rush with only Val working the front. I need someone behind the bar too. It will be _packed_ in here come one o’clock.”

“You want me to man the bar?”

“Yeah, it’s easy as long as you make a decent pot of coffee and can handle taking plates I set out to the counter or handing them to Val. Think you can do that? I’ll pay you back real nice later on tonight if you can.” Sam says, winking at him.

Steve feels a pool in his gut, and wonders how he can still find a man sexy when he has a damn hairnet on.

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

“Then you gotta deal.” Steve answers, sipping more of his coffee.

The two spend the next hours before the lunch rush chatting each other up and telling Valkyrie how they met. Then noon is about to roll over and Sam tosses an apron at him. Steve catches it, standing up to tie it around his waist. Steve moves behind the counter and starts a second pot of coffee.

Steve thought Sam might have been exaggerating about how intense the rush hour would be, but sure enough as soon as one hits the bell doesn’t stop ringing. Steve keeps up friendly small talk with those who sit at the bar, and manages not to appear completely moonstruck by Sam and how fast he’s whipping out orders. Even though Steve doesn’t do more than pour coffee, make coffee, and chat idly, by the time five rolls around he’s swamped.

Sam comes around to join him, his apron and hairnet already off. Steve unties his as well. Randy comes in right on time, shaking Sam’s hand before taking his place in the kitchen. The couple walk out together, and Steve opens his car door for him, shutting it behind him. As he moves to get in the driver’s seat he feels a prickling on the back of his neck and looks up.

Across the street there are two white men looking at him, their brows drawn. Steve swallows but holds their gaze without shame or fear, nodding his head at them. They don’t nod back and Steve crawls behind the wheel.

He waits for them to keep walking down the street and away from Sam’s neighborhood before backing out of the parking lot and easing down the road.

“Two guys just saw me open the door for you.”

“Did they?” Sam asks, seemingly unbothered. “What are they gonna do, beat up a cop?”

“They don’t know that I’m a cop. They just think I’m some white guy opening a car door for a black guy, and to them that doesn’t look too good.”

Sam shakes his head at him as they pull up in front of his home. “Don’t let it worry you, Steve.”

He sighs and pulls his keys from the ignition, “It will, I already feel like something bad is going to happen and now-” He shakes his head, “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe we should move. Go somewhere a little more accepting, I hear there’s a safer space for people like us in California. That’s a pretty accepting place.”

Sam snorts, and rolls his eyes, opening his door and getting out. Steve frowns and locks his car before following him into the house.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just saying.”

“Steve, it’s not-”

“Or maybe you’re not as serious about me as I am about you, and that’s okay too. I guess...I fall fast.”

Sam shakes his head and walks up to him, his palms coming up to cup his jaw softly. “I’m just as serious about you as you are about me, I just didn’t want to have _that_ conversation in your car. And California is all the way across the _country_ , Steve.”

Steve raises his hands to cover Sam’s, “Yeah, but it’s safer and we could _be_ together.”

“You would drive across the country just to have a life with me, Rogers?” Sam asks, stepping even closer to him so their noses graze.

Steve swallows, and answers breathlessly, “Yeah.”

Sam stands up on his tiptoes, “That’s damn sexy. And I just remembered I made you a promise didn’t I?” He whispers, pulling Steve forward until their lips connect.

Steve moves his hands to Sam’s hips, and Sam’s move to hold the nape of his neck. He leads them back to the bedroom, twisting at the last moment to shove Steve onto the bed. He bounces for a moment, groaning as he realizes how tight his pants are.

“What do you want, Steve, huh? I don’t want you worrying about anything.”

“Could you hold me down? I don’t want to be in control of anything for a while.”

Sam lights up, “Ooh, can I use your handcuffs? Can I cuff you to the bed?”

Steve chuckles at his excitement, “My cuffs are in the car, and my keys are by the door.”

“Okay, you be naked when I get back, alright? And no touching.”

Steve nods, letting Sam walk out before he unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs, groaning as they slide over his erection. Steve kicks them off his feet and folds them before pulling his undershirt over his head, saving his underwear for last. He folds all of it and drops the pile on the floor before he hears the front door open again.

Sam walks into the bedroom with two pairs of handcuffs, and Steve giggles at how excited he looks as he closes and the locks the door behind him.

“Okay, I got the key too, of course. There was just one though, that’s alright, right?”

“Yeah, it works for both.” Steve answers.

Sam crawls onto the bed, straddling Steve as he takes each of his wrists and locks them to the bedposts. Steve scoots up closer to the headboard and lets his arms hang. Sam leaves again to go into his bathroom and comes back with two scarves?

“These are my wave caps, they’re made of silk. I’m gonna stuff them in along with the cuffs so they don’t dig into your wrists too much.”

Steve smiles lovingly at him as he follows through with his plan, and Steve hums at the silk’s softness against his skin.

But this means Sam’s straddling him again, and Steve’s feeling impatient now. He whines, pushing his hips up against Sam’s jeans. He laughs and looks down at him.

“Calm down, we’ll get to the fun stuff soon.”

Steve whines again, but Sam follows through by pulling his shirt over his head and standing to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. While he’s up he gets the canister and Steve bites his lip, pulling his legs up to his chest.

Sam smiles at him, kissing him slow and gentle as a hand trails down his thigh, sparks igniting in its wake. Steve hisses when a finger is finally grazed against his hole. Sam smears vaseline against it, his fingers rubbing it into his skin and doing nothing more than circling his entrance. Steve pulls Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth and pushes against his fingers.

“You are so impatient.” Sam whispers, grinning against Steve’s lips.

“I am generally an impatient person, but when it comes to you I want things done faster than the speed of light. Like how I wanted your dick in me and fucking me through this mattress like yesterday.”

Sam responds by slipping his finger into him, and Steve sighs, willing his body to relax so Sam can stretch him as quickly as possible. Sam thrusts his finger in shallowly, and Steve pants. It feels full, but not nearly full enough. He moans when Sam slips another finger into him, scissoring them to make his legs jerk. A third finger is added quickly enough, and finally the emptiness inside him seems to dissipate if only a little.

Steve tightens his legs around Sam’s waist, and pulls against his restraints. “C’mon, get in me.”

Sam kneels up, and Steve’s cock twitches at the sight of him slicking his dick up, dark, thick, and long in his hand. Steve spreads his legs as wide as he can, his eyes fluttering close as Sam’s hands smooth up his sides.

His breath hitches as Sam’s cock nudges against him, and Steve opens his eyes to watch Sam as he unfurls around his head and draws him in. Before they flutter closed Sam’s eyes go hazy with pleasure, and he groans, pushing slowly until their hips meet and Steve’s taken all of Sam to the hilt. Steve’s moan tampers off into a whimper at the sensation of fullness, shifting and marveling at how he’s pretty sure he can feel Sam in his gut.

“Fuck.” He groans, and pushes his hips down as if he can take Sam any deeper.

Sam smiles at him, his hands burning hot stripes over his sides to pinch his nipples. The pleasure strikes through his chest and jolts down to his cock, and Steve arches up into the touch. Sam slides his hands down to hold his hips, and Steve moans as he starts to move his own.

His thrusts are slow at first, as if he’s just feeling him out. The slow drag of Sam’s cock moving in and out of his ass lights a fire in Steve’s balls, and he digs his heels into the bed as Sam plunges inside of him again and again. He moves him further up onto his lap, and when he dives into him again the angle is perfect for his cock to meet his prostate.

Steve’s legs twitch as he whines, arching his back as Sam keeps driving into his body. He opens his eyes to look at him, his brown skin already damp under a light sheen of sweat, and his eyebrows pinched together, mouth a perfect o. A slow grin spreads across his beautiful face and Steve returns it thoughtlessly.

“You enjoying yourself, baby?” Sam asks, taking his legs and hitching them over his shoulders.

“Ah, uh-huh. You feel good. _Fuck.”_ He whimpers, spasming as Sam grinds against his prostate, filling him up beautifully. Sam holds his thighs in a tight grip and starts to move faster, harder, slamming his cock into Steve’s ass until he’s pistoning into him and Steve can’t hold back his crying moans.

He pulls against the handcuffs and pushes his head into the pillow, moving his hips along with Sam’s.

“Oh, fuck me, Sammy. Fuck me, fuck me, god.” He pants.

“I am, baby, I am. Everything’s going to be okay, you hear? You won’t have to worry about a thing.” Sam replies, pulling his cock all the way out and leaving Steve with an aching emptiness. He doesn’t have time to voice his complaints before he shoves back in to his ass, a long and deep stroke that makes Steve shudder. He pulls all the way out again, and continues this for several minutes, making Steve whimper with every sudden hit to his prostate.

He raises his hips as erection becomes unbearable, so hard and full of blood the pressure hurts. Steve glances down at it — flushed red, the head so dark it could be considered violet. He looks back up at Sam and feels his cock jump at the sight of him, the muscles of his abdomen rolling to pleasure him.

“Sam, Sam, please, touch me.”

“Yeah?” He asks, moving his hand to rest higher on his thigh, closer to his aching groin.

“Yeah, please, make me come.” Steve whines, pushing his hips up pleadingly.

Sam’s hips speed up, falling into his ass so quickly Steve doesn’t have time to miss him before he’s spearing him open again. His hand wraps around his dick and Steve whimpers at the heat of it before he starts tugging him slowly.

The pleasure builds along that tempo, each stroke bringing him closer to the brink. Steve’s breath quickens and he squirms at Sam’s mercy as his cock pierces his ass and explores his fucking guts and his thumb presses into the head of his weeping cock. Steve’s toes curl as the brink comes closer and closer, his balls tightening, and warmth drawing up in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yes, you’re gonna make me come, oh please.” Steve knocks his head back when Sam shoves in deep, pressing his thumb into his slit at the same time and drawing his orgasm from him. His cock jerks as it spits its end across his chest in white victory. And Sam fucks him through it, Steve letting out tiny mewls and whimpers as his oversensitive hole is plunged and used until Sam is fucking his come into him.

Steve shakes as the heat fills him up inside, and Sam stays there for a few moments, kissing along his forehead, nose and cheeks. Steve giggles at the affection, blissfully happy when Sam pulls out of him and frees his hands.

He puts them up and comes back to wipe Steve’s stomach. Steve himself waves him away when he tries to get at his ass. “I like it a little bit, let it stay.”

Sam gives him a lustful look and Steve can tell they’re going to have more fun with this a little later. But not now, for now Sam clicks off the bedside lamp and crawls in next to him, pulling Steve up and onto his chest.

And for once the ominous feeling of something bad coming is mute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the worse sex scene I have ever written and I might come back and revise it but until then I am sorry


	5. Chapter 5

Steve wakes up ahead of Sam the next morning and kisses his forehead before getting out of bed. He pulls open one of Sam's drawers to borrow some of his clothes which are a little tighter than Steve's accustomed to but it's worth it to smell Sam on his skin. 

He watches his lover roll over in the sheets with a groan and has to convince himself to get breakfast started instead of watching him like a lovesick creep. Still no one would know if he stays for just a minute or two. 

Steve walks out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, stooping to get out a pan and plates.

Halfway through making french toast and waffles Steve hears Sam start to stir, his feet shuffling into the bathroom, the run of water as he washes his face, brushes his teeth.

He comes out to join him a moment later, his smile soft as he goes behind Steve and wraps his arms around him.

Steve smiles but moves his head away when Sam tries to reach up for a kiss. 

“I haven't brushed my teeth yet, stop.” He laughs.

Sam's arms squeeze him around the waist and he shakes his head against his shoulder, “I don't care, do it after breakfast.”

He stretches up again and Steve concedes with a small smile, turning his head to graze their lips together. Steve means to keep it chaste with his morning breath in mind but Sam's lips part beneath his and since everything about this man calls to him he falls deeper still. 

He forgets about the toast in the pan, turning around to get his arms fully around Sam and pull him close. The cook smiles against his mouth, flicking his tongue over the curve of Steve's as his hands latch onto his hips and shove him back against the stove.

Steve laughs, and fights to pull himself away, “Stop, you're gonna make me burn the toast.” 

Sam lets him get back to it, but Steve is all too aware of his presence behind him leaning against the counter. He can feel the back of his neck and his ears burn as he flips the two slices of french toast onto the plate he sets out. 

“You're making me blush, quit staring so hard.” Steve mumbles, moving to open the waffle iron.

“Oh yeah? Why is that? Do I make you nervous?”

The way Sam asks it Steve knows he's only teasing, but he freezes up anyway before he can continue with taking out one waffle and pouring more batter in. 

He tosses a look at the man over his shoulder, only daring himself to see a glimpse of that beauty in this moment. Sam with his soft brown eyes and skin, and warmth, and handsome features.  

Steve's cheeks start to burn too and he shrugs one shoulder as if the butterflies in his stomach ain't nothing.

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, Sam, you make me nervous.”

He hears Sam guffaw behind him, like maybe he doesn't believe him or something. So Steve continues.

“It's not a bad nervous, it's a good nervous, y'know? The kind you get in high school with your first crush. Like,” Steve sucks in a breath and laughs at himself, “It hits me at the strangest times. Like last night when you were making love to me and I thought- I was looking up at you, right? And your eyes were squeezed shut, and my stomach started floating a little bit like someone had tied balloons to it when I wasn't looking, and I thought to myself, _ if he opens his eyes right now would I be good enough? Would I be what he wants to see?”  _ Steve shakes his head, laughing at his own vulnerability. 

Sam's frowning though, his strong arms crossed over his chest. He walks up to him and kisses him sweet, holding Steve's chin in his hand. Steve's almost afraid to meet his eyes. 

“You know that's stupid, right? Of course you're what I want to see.”

Steve shakes his head, “Yeah, I know. I know it's just — you make me nervous like that sometimes. You just…” He licks his lips and looks down at the tiled floor of Sam's kitchen, “just make me nervous.”

Sam shakes his chin in his grip until Steve looks up at him again and growls which startles a laugh out of Steve.

“You being all cute and coy like that makes me want to fuck you all over again.”

“I didn't say fuck I said make love.” Steve teases.

“Making love doesn't involve handcuffs, not in my book. Love's not that spicy.”

Steve nips at his nose, “With you it is.”

“I think your waffle's burning.”

“Shit!” 

Sam laughs like a jerk as Steve whirls around and opens the waffle iron, fanning the smoke away with his hands. It's not that bad, only a little burnt at the center. Steve drops it onto the plate and brings it to the table, Sam following with a bowl of fruit, honey, and syrup.

Steve goes to make his own plate, but Sam slides it away from him. Steve opens his mouth but Sam just shakes his head, so he grins to himself and lets his man fix his plate.

Steve watches Sam pile up french toast and waffles with a layer of honey and fruit in between then he gets up to finish it off with a topping of whipped cream and syrup. Sam grins at him so lovingly when he slides it back over to him Steve can't help to flush full body. 

“Thanks, are you gonna feed me too?”

“If you want me to,” Sam winks, “but I wouldn't want to make you nervous.”

Steve laughs around his first bite which is delicious of course, and looks back up at him. “Is that how it is? I open up to you and you use it against me?”

“Oh, that's how it is. I like it is all. I like that I make you nervous.”

“Do I make  _ you  _ nervous?” Steve asks, fixing a bite onto his fork and leaning forward for across the table to hold it to Sam's lips.

They watch he other as his lips close around the fork, and Steve swallows as his breath hitches. 

“Sometimes. Not often. You make me feel safe more than anything.” Sam answers. 

Steve opens his mouth and scoots forward in his chair but Sam cuts him off with a laugh.

“No, I see that look in your eye, we have jobs we have to go to. I'll try to wheel the sexy back in and we can eat our breakfast in peace.”

Steve's mouth snaps shut and contrary to what Sam says he does  _ not  _ pout through the rest of their meal. 

They dress together in the bedroom and kiss each other goodbye at the door. 

 

Steve walks into the station at ten o'clock on the dot and takes a seat at his desk. He eyes Peggy leaned back with her feet on hers and they share a sympathetic look.

“Another slow day, huh?” He asks.

“Maybe not.” Carol interrupts, sauntering over to them from her office with her hands in her slacks.

“There's a ruckus brewing in the more rural side of town, I just gotta call. Some hick is threatening to shoot a black man for walking on his property. And you two know how I feel about innocent blood on my hands. Here's the address.” She pulls out a note from her pocket and hands it to Steve. “Both of you ride over there, put a stop to it.” She commands, her brown eyes hard and serious. 

Steve stands back up and puts his cap back on as Peggy does the same. He checks his gun as they walk out, fully loaded, though he hopes he doesn't have to use it. They take Peggy's cop car, she switches the siren on and drives them over.

They hear the yelling before they see anybody, sound always seems to carry in nothing but fields on this side of town. 

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt when he sees an older man around fifty pointing a shotgun at a black man around his age whose hands are up above his head. It looks like the man's wife is trying to get him to put the gun down or she could be the neighbor who called. There's a little black girl crying her eyes out and holding onto her daddy's pant leg. 

Steve scowls and gets out of the car before Peggy even pulls to a complete stop. He unsheathes his gun from its holster and points it at the ground before waving a hand to get their attention.

“Hey, hey! We're the police. Sir, sir, we're the police and I'm going to have to ask you to put your firearm down.” Steve shouts, cautiously approaching the situation. 

The hick points to the other man and shouts back, “This nigger walked onto my property I have every right to shoot him!”

“No you don't, sir, especially if he is no longer on your property. This man is standing in the road now and you don't own that. If you shoot him where he stands it will be murder.” Steve explains.

He looks over his shoulder to see Peggy slowly coming to join him, her pistol also drawn. 

“And in that case we can and  _ will _ arrest you.” She clarifies. 

“Put the gun down, sir.”

“But, I-”

“Put it  _ down _ !” Steve shouts, stabbing a finger toward the ground. 

Defeated, and more than a little confused the man finally puts his shotgun down, but doesn't drop it to the grass. 

Steve's about to order he do just that when another man walks up from the back of the house. Steve pauses only because he recognizes him. It's one of the men he saw the other day when he held open the car door for Sam. And he must recognize him too from the way he's glaring at him.

“Drop your weapon, sir.” Peggy orders, picking up his slack. 

Steve watches what he presumes to be the man's son whisper something in his ear, and then both men are glaring at him. But in spite of that he drops his shotgun in the grass.

“But only cause  _ she _ said it. I don't take orders from no  _ queer _ .” The man snarls.

Steve swallows but doesn't allow any emotion to pass over his face, even if his heart jumps in fear and his palms start to sweat. 

Peggy looks at him in confusion before she grimaces at the man, and looks about fit to tear his head off. Steve holds out his arm to keep her from doing so.

“Don't feed into it. We're just here to diffuse the situation. Keep your mind on the job.” He cautions. 

Steve walks over to the hick and his son, who back away from him as if he's a leper when he approaches. He grits his teeth against the shock of shame that floods through him as he picks up the firearm and tosses it further away in the grass.

Steve walks over the black man in the road who has finally dropped his hands and his shaking along with his daughter clinging to him. 

“Hello, sir, are you okay? Are you unhurt?” He asks, sparing a glance down to the sniveling girl barely higher than his knees,  _ “Both _ of you, are  _ both  _ of you unhurt?”

“Y-yes, officers, we're fine. Jazzy just saw something shiny in this man's yard, that's all. She ran out to get it and I chased after her and then this mister came out and it all went downhill pretty fast.”

Steve almost wants to tell him he doesn't have to refer to the man who pulled a shotgun out on a five-year old and her dad as 'mister.’ It's certainly granting them more class than they'll ever possess.

“Ok. Uh, where are you guys headed?”

“Home. Jazzy just wanted to go for a walk is all. It's just a couple more miles down this here road.”

“Would like us to give you a ride?” Peggy asks.

“You don't have to do that.”

“It would be our pleasure.” She assures him.

Peggy smiles and they agree, and Steve walks with them back over to the squad car. He can feel their eyes on him, and with it their disgust and hatred of him. Steve holds the door open for the little girl and her dad and forces himself to hold eye contact with the racist man and his father just like he did the other day. 

 

Driving back to the station Steve sighs raggedly and puts his head between his knees. He held it together when they dropped that little family off but now he feels as if he's choking on air. 

They stop in the station’s parking lot and Peggy rubs his back with concern.

“Steve, Steve, how did they- why did they call you a queer?” She asks.

Steve tries to focus on his breathing, tries to slow it down as sweat trickles down his temple. “They uh, they saw me. The other day with Sam...at the diner. I opened his car door for him and the son, the son and someone else  _ saw _ me to do it. That's why, Peggy. That's how they know, or they've guessed. God, did you see the way they backed away from me when I went for that gun? I felt...I felt  _ ashamed  _ and I've  _ never _ been  _ ashamed  _ of myself before. And it was... _ awful. _ ”

Peggy's hand squeezes the back of his neck, and Steve blinks, hearing more than feeling a tear drop onto the floor board. He can still feel it. That gray feeling of suddenly not wanting to be in his own skin or thinking something about himself was fundamentally  _ wrong. _

“It's all rubbish, Steve. Don't dwell on it. There's nothing wrong with you, or me for that matter. I've had a crush on our chief for a good year now and hell hasn't claimed me yet.”

Steve looks up at her in surprise and laughs a little. “Really? You and Carol, huh?”

“Well, nothing's happened she doesn't know a thing about it.” Peggy quips, smirking at him. 

“You'd be cute together,” He breathes, voice just a little shaky, “You should go for it. Carol would say yes. She can't give you orders and look you in the eye at the same time.” 

Peggy laughs and rubs his back some more, “You want me to drive you over to Sam's? Spend some time with him? I'll handle everything here if you want.”

“No, no, I'm okay. I don't want to dump all of this on him right now. I'm sorry I dumped it onto you.” Steve says, sitting up finally and fixing his cap.

“Don't be.” Comes Peggy's easy reply.

They walk back into the station together and Steve does let Peggy handle reporting back to Carol, giving her a little eyebrow raise as she walks into her office. 

There's no more excitement for the rest of the day. Steve stays at his desk and does all his reports and paperwork, and when he runs out he helps out his fellow officers. He doesn't go out for lunch, and before he knows it he's the last one in the station and Carol's wishing him goodnight with a look in her eyes that says Peggy told her everything and that he should get his ass home.

He sits there in the empty station for a few long minutes before he realizes he's scared to leave. 

He's scared to go back to Sam. What if he feels  _ ashamed _ when he's with Sam? What if it doesn't feel right anymore, what if they've tainted what they have somehow? Steve runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. That's ridiculous. 

He could never be ashamed of Sam or of himself for  _ being _ with Sam. Sam's a beautiful person, he's a beautiful  _ man _ that Steve has had the pleasure to fall in  _ love  _ with and their love is not disgusting or any less than when a man loves a woman.

Steve stands up and pulls his coat on, walking to the station’s doors and turning the lights off before locking it up for the night. 

He walks out into the crisp cold air of night, but halfway to his car someone whistles. 

Steve jerks his head to the right as a group of men emerges from the trees. It's easy to spot the son from earlier. 

“What are you guys doing out so late? Don't you have wives to get home to?” He asks, desperately hoping this isn't what he thinks it is.

The son walks towards him slowly and the group follows him like animals.

“Yeah, but you sure don't, do you, Captain Rogers.”

Of all the stupid things to pop into his head Steve almost wants to correct him on his rank. 

“I'm a bachelor.” He says, swallowing as the men come to stand not even a foot away from him. 

“You're a faggot is what you are, and a coon-loving one at that, ain't that right, boys?”

Fear and dread pool in Steve's stomach and he fingers his keys as they stare at him like he's less than dirt.

“Fellas you don't want to do this.” He whispers, and they laugh. “I'm an officer of the law, I'm pretty good at remembering faces, and you all could get in a lot of trouble. So I think the smartest thing for all of us is to walk away from each other and go home.”

“That may be the smartest thing. But it's not the rightest. I think God would like me to  _ beat _ the gay out of you. And I am in fact a man of God.”

Steve squares his jaw but before he can run or reach for his sidearm the man whips out a bat and cracks it against his side. 

The pain shocks through Steve's rib, the ache resonating through his body as he sucks in a breath and gives a silent scream. Steve falls to the ground and they surround him. He sees their faces screwed up with hate and can't help but ask himself is this what Sam saw? And then he doesn't have time to ask himself anything. 

Steve curls to protect his head, even though their targets seem to mostly be his abdomen and legs. The intensity of the blows vary and he can't tell if they're hitting him with weapons are just stomping on him. Either way it  _ hurts _ . 

But he remembers what he told Sam. He told Sam to run. And if he can't run then fight.

Steve opens his eyes to see the swinging arch of the bat fly into his knee. Agony sparks from the bone and skitters up his leg, but he times it right and on the next downswing he grabs the bat’s end with both hands, pulls his leg up and kicks the lead aggressor of all this in the balls before shoving his foot up again to catch his chin. 

The men are too shocked at him fighting back for a moment and Steve swings the bat around to catch their legs so most of them fall. He moves to attack the one man standing but before he can they lock eyes and the other man foot comes down. Hard. 

Steve's just registering the amount of hatred and joy on his face when he feels the impact. 

He can hear his shin snap. He can feel the bones grind against each other and give way. And the pain is excruciating, blinding even.

He throws his head back and screams for all that he's worth. Steve rolls out of the way before the man can break something else. He fumbles for his sidearm as the man stalks after him, finally seizing it in his hand and firing off a shot that blows out the man's knee.

His howl is louder than Steve's. He pants and watches the man crumble, his other attackers slowly standing and realizing what has happened. 

Steve raises his gun again and for a split second he can see it. He can see himself killing them all. It would be so easy. Some would run but none would get away, he's too good of a shot for that. 

But then he remembers the hate he saw in their eyes. And he doesn't want it in his own. 

Steve lowers the gun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know police stations don't really close but I had no other ideas of how to get the jump on Steve and I'm sorry


	6. Chapter 6

Steve pants, and snorts to clear some of the blood in his nose, spitting it out onto the asphalt. One of them managed a kick to his face that must have grazed his neck because his throat aches like a bitch. 

He looks up wearily to see them all still standing there, staring at him dumbfounded. Steve scowls.

“Get the fuck out of here before I change my goddamn mind. Tell your wives you won’t be seeing them in a while on the account you’ll be rotting away come tomorrow. Now I’m serious, get the fuck out of my sight in the next three seconds or this gun is going off and I can promise you,” He laughs mirthlessly, “it won’t miss.” 

Steve drops his head in his hand and listens to their steps scuffling away. He doesn’t open his eyes until he’s sure they’re all gone. His blue eyes rise up, taking in the full yellow moon, howling wind and wispy clouds of gray sweeping over it. Steve thinks for a moment this is the closest he’ll come to believing in a God, staring up at that unforgiving moon, beautiful to behold but helplessly out of reach. 

He staggers to his feet and blames the tears in his eyes on the brisk, harsh wind. Steve hobbles the short way to his car, fumbles to unlock it and clamber inside behind the wheel. Thankfully his left leg is the one broken, and so driving to Sam’s isn’t all that hard, especially since shock has set in and he can hardly feel much of anything. Not even his own face. 

The car skitters to a stop outside of Sam’s house, and Steve falls out the door, landing hard on his knees but getting up again just as quickly. He drags himself to the front porch and collapses against the door as his hand moves to open it. 

The warmth of Sam’s home is so sudden and relieving Steve wants to cry.

* * *

Sam turns his head when he hears someone making a racket on his porch, and is already standing up when the door falls open.

When he sees him the air dries up from his lungs, and Sam can feel his heart take a sickening drop. Steve’s right eye is swollen shut, his nose busted to hell with dried blood caked over the lower half of his face. He’s wobbling on his feet, and holding his right side. His lips move to form his name, but nothing more than a croak is emitted. 

Sam rushes up to him, taking his battered body carefully in his arms. He moves one hand to cup Steve’s face and his palm slides against the blood and the tears he finds there. 

“Steve, Steve, are you — you can hear me, right?”

Steve nods weakly, and Sam starts to walk him right back out the door, his mind racing too fast to think of locking it behind them. 

Halfway to the car Sam realizes he’s saying things. “Okay, we’re going to be okay. We just have to get you to the hospital, alright? And you can’t go to sleep, not yet, baby, okay? Just stay awake, and I’ll drive as fast as I can.”

Sam opens the car door with Steve plastered to his side, and lowers the man into the seat, buckling him in before shutting the door and running around to the other side. 

He gets the car in gear and roars out of his own driveway, speeding off to the hospital on the outskirts of their town and the beginning of the next.    
Sam makes sure to keep an eye on Steve the whole time, checking in on him. Sam can hear the wheeze of his laborious breathing; so, it’s pretty clear he can hardly speak. Sam just offers a hand and Steve’s creeps into it, giving him a squeeze every time he glances over so he knows he’s still awake. 

They arrive at the hospital’s emergency room, and Sam races to get Steve out and into someone’s capable hands as fast as possible. It being a slow town, they are immediately bumped up to number one priority. Nurses and doctors move to take Steve away on a stretcher, but when they start to wheel him away he makes a terrible, disheartening wail from the back of his throat. It sounds warbly and unimaginably terrified akin to that of dying animal. Sam takes a step towards him as the cry breaks his heart, but the nurses hold him back.

Even so Steve’s hand goes out towards him, his blue eyes wide and scared. He seems barely lucid, and Sam’s not entirely sure he knows where they are or what’s happening. They try to wheel him away again, and Steve puts up a fight Sam didn’t know he was still capable of, kicking and slapping away hands as sits up. 

_ “Ssa-am!” _ He gasps, finally managing to get the word out. 

A doctor in green scrubs raises an eyebrow and turns to look back at him. “Is that you?”

“Yes, I’m his, uh, driver.” 

They look back to Steve once he starts to trying to speak again.  _ “P-puh-please, please.”  _

“Doctor?” One of the nurses asks, looking up at the man expectantly.

“Let him come. We can’t stand to waste more time.”

Steve relaxes back onto the gurney, his eyes blearily trying to keep track of Sam as he follows them down a hall and into a room for X-rays. He can’t physically be in the room, but Sam tells Steve he’ll be watching just outside.

A broken leg, nose, and two broken ribs. Sam is surprised to feel nothing but sadness, no anger in sight. He guesses that it will come later when he’s sure Steve is okay. He just needs him to be okay.

They have to operate because the fractures of Steve’s tibia reach the joint. Sam doesn’t watch. He doesn’t want to see Steve under heavy artificial lights looking halfway to dead. He goes back to his place to bring Steve some blankets and clothes, the plate he had waiting for him. 

It takes around two hours before Steve is out of surgery, but he’s not awake and visiting hours are over. Sam stays in the colored section of the waiting room, sleeping in an uncomfortable, dirty chair until morning. 

When he wakes it’s to sunlight streaming in through two grimy windows. Sam stretches before hauling all his stuff with him, and making the long trek back to the emergency department.

He approaches the woman at the front desk, “Is Steve Rogers awake yet?” 

“You’re not allowed to be back here.”

She raises a hand to probably call someone to escort him out, but then a sheriff straight from heaven walks into the room.

She has blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders from beneath her police hat, and when her brown eyes lock on Sam she makes a purposeful beeline for him. 

“Are you Sam Wilson?”

“Yes, I am.” 

She nods her head down the hall she came from, “Steve’s asking for you.” The woman loops her arm through his with a polite smile, “I’m Carol Danvers. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

Carol moves to escort him back, but the receptionist leaps out of her chair, “M’am! He can’t go back there. I you want to visit a patient then you’ll have to go alone.”

Carol snaps her head around to glare at the woman, who shrinks back immediately. Letting go of Sam’s arm Carol marches forward, one finger tapping the badge over her heart. 

“I’m Chief Carol Danvers of the next town over, may I ask what your position is to tell me who can and can’t go where I say?”

“I’m...the receptionist.”

“So you answer telephones all day, and make small talk?”

“I-”

“Either way, I outrank you. This man has been requested by a patient, and so I’m going to escort him there whether you like it or not. After that you can get back to your job, one I just did better than you.” Carol snaps, her voice cold and unyielding. 

The receptionist sits back down in her chair slowly and lets her eyes fall to the ground. 

Sam smiles at the officer when she locks their arms together again, “Oh, Steve must  _ love  _ you.” He says, and Carol laughs.

Steve sits up when he walks in, grinning even though there’s a bandage over his nose and his right eye is completely closed. 

“Sam, Sam this is Peggy.” He says carefully. Sam looks to the woman standing next to his hospital bed, he didn’t even realize she was there.

“Hello, nice to meet you, not under these circumstances, but nice to meet you.” He says, making her red lips part in a laugh.

“I’ll say the same. Carol and I will leave Steve in your care. We have to go hunt down all the men he described. Should be just enough to keep us busy.” 

Peggy comes around to shake his hand, and they nod at each other before she walks out the room. Steve sighs when he finally comes up to his side. 

“Are you hungry? I wouldn’t think you’d be hungry after something like this but knowing you-”

“I’m starving actually.”

Sam smiles smugly and brings out the plate he brought, unwrapping it for Steve to enjoy. He groans as he rips into the porkchop, wincing as he swallows.

Sam’s eyes track down to the angry red and purplish bruise covering his throat. That certainly doesn’t look fun. Steve sees him looking and waves a hand towards his adam’s apple.

“Guy kicked me in the face, scraped his boot against my neck. The ache’s gotten better, though, it looks worse than it is.”

Sam’s head falls back as he laughs in disbelief, because of course Steve is trying to reassure him having boot burn on his fucking neck, isn’t all that bad. 

“What?” Steve asks, smiling dumbly. 

“Nothing man,” Sam whispers, leaning down to run his fingers through Steve’s blonde hair and kiss him on the forehead. He kisses the tip of Steve’s nose and then his lips for good measure before pulling away. “California doesn’t sound so crazy now.” Sam says.

Steve takes another bite of the porkchop in his hands and looks at him, the silent question in his eyes. “It doesn’t?”

“No. I think we should do it. We should leave here as soon as all of your attackers are arrested, say goodbye to our friends, and settle in for a long drive.” Sam sighs, rubbing the back of his head. He thinks lovingly of Misty, Rhodes, Valkyrie, and can feel the longing for them already.

Steve finishes off the porkchop and starts on another, his eyebrows drawn. “I’m not good at leaving people.” He breathes, and Sam can tell he’s trying not to cry. 

“I know. It’s better to be bad at something like that, it’s not much of a life if you aren’t.” Sam replies, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of Steve’s neck.

They don’t say anything else, Sam stands by Steve’s bed and watches him finish off the plate. He stays until the nurses come in to tell them Steve can go home with stern instructions to ice his ribs and stick to bedrest. 

Once they leave Sam helps Steve dress in the clothes he brought for him, and starts to help move him toward the wheelchair and crutch the doctors left.

Steve stops and glares at it. “Sam.”

“Steve.”

“Sam, I don’t wa-”

“I’m not carrying you all the way out to the car and I’m not gonna watch you hobble along with crutches. Get in the damn chair.”

“But I don’t-”

_ “Steven.” _

With a huff Steve drops into it, but he glares and clenches his jaw the whole time Sam wheels him out. 

They decide to get all of Steve’s things so Steve directs Sam in the right direction. He pulls up outside the apartment and helps Steve get inside. They pack up all his clothes and bedsheets which takes about an hour or so. Sam carries the suitcases out to the car and piles them in the trunk before grabbing Steve again, and then it’s back to his place. 

Sam watches Steve fall back onto his bed with a groan, his head tipping back onto the pillow. Sam crosses his arms and leans against the door jamb. He wants to ask what happened exactly, he knows at some point they’re going to have to talk about it. He just doesn’t know when that will be or if Steve will actually come to him. Sam’s been beaten up for being black, but he’s never been beaten up for being gay. In this one instance it pains him not to know what Steve’s feeling. 

“Why are you thinking so loud? I’m trying to relax here.” Steve teases, but the joke doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know.” He sighs, “I know, but not now, alright? I don’t know when I’ll want to talk about it, but it isn’t now. For now I just want you to lay here with me, okay? Please?”

“I can do that.” Sam replies, walking over and lifting Steve’s leg carefully to slide a pillow under it before crawling in next to him. Steve shifts himself over until he’s curled into his side and Sam raises an arm to pull him closer, kisses the golden crown of his head. 

Steve falls asleep fairly quickly, his shoulders rising up to his ears with a deep breath before he releases it and is gone. Sam pets the back of his head and the nape of his neck. A few minutes go by before Steve starts to snore thunderously into his shoulder, of course he was silent sleeper before...this. It’d be funny if Steve broke his nose on a bad fall or literally any other reason, but all Sam can think about is the fact someone broke his nose by smashing their boot in his face. 

So he doesn’t sleep. He can feel it pulling at him half heartedly, but resists the call. All sleep holds is his imagination of what happened to Steve, and he needs to stall that for as long as possible even though he knows it will come. Eventually. 

Steve takes a two hour nap, and pushes himself up from Sam’s shoulder with a string of drool connecting him to Sam’s shirt. He grimaces and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, throwing an embarrassed look to see if Sam’s saw.

He laughs as Steve blushes, “Yeah, I saw that. But I’ve had your mouth seven ways to Sunday there’s nothing you could do with it that would deter me at this point.”

Steve’s smirk blossoms into a shy smile, and he rests his elbows on Sam’s chest to look down at him before he sticks his tongue out and licks from the hair on Sam’s chin to the tip of his nose. They laugh and Sam helps Steve out of bed so he can fit the wooden crutch under his arm and follow Sam out to the kitchen. 

He fixes them lunch while making calls to all their friends, telling them the gist of the situation and what they’ve decided to do about it. Sam’s not surprised when they all respond with “I’m coming over right now.” 

Steve smiles at him when he sets his plate down in front of him. “Are you up for the company?”

“I would love some actually. Do you think anyone would mind if I invited Peggy and Carol?”

“Of course not. See how they’re doing on taking all those guys in too.” 

Steve stiffens at that, and Sam sees his hand twist into a fist on the table top. “I could call.” He offers, before Steve opens his mouth to ask him to. Those blue eyes flick up to him with gratitude, and Steve clears his throat, gives a bob of his head. 

Steve gives him Carol’s office number, and Sam makes the call. “Hey, Carol, yeah, it’s me.”

“It’s nice to hear from you, Sam. How’s Steve doing?”

“He snores now but other than that, he’s pretty much the same.” Sam answers, winking at the man across from him and laughing when it makes his cheeks flame red. 

Sam walks into the bedroom and closes the door before broaching the subject of Steve’s attackers. If Steve doesn’t want to deal with it yet, then Sam’s not going to force him. 

“How’s the investigation coming?”

Carol heaves a sigh, and Sam hears the creaks of a chair. “We’ve got four of the five, but one of ‘em decided to make a run for it. I put three cars on him though, and they accosted him two towns over. They’re bringing him back to the station now.” 

“How long will they get?”

“Four years each. Is, is Steve hearing this?” She asks, confused.

“No, he uh, he’s not ready yet. For now we’re kind of acting like it didn’t happen, and I’m not gonna be the one to push him if he’s not ready.”

“Of course not.” Carol says. And a moment silence passes. “You’re good for him Sam Wilson.”

“Thanks, I try to be. We’re going to be moving though. Far away, all my friends are coming over to say goodbye. This probably won’t be the last time they come over, but I was wondering if you’d like to join us, you and Peggy.”

“We would love to. We’ll have to show up a little late though until all of these arrests are sorted out. Is that alright?”

“Trust me, the party probably won’t end until it’s morning. You’ll be doing yourself a favor.” Sam laughs. 

He comes out of the bedroom saying he’ll see her there. Steve’s skin is flushed pink as he fawned over by everyone but Rhodes. Sam cracks a smile as Misty cups his cheeks like some damn infant. Steve’s eyes carry to Sam’s and he sheepishly tries to move her hands away. 

“I’m fine, Misty, I swear. Please, please stop touching my cheeks.” 

“Yes, leave the man alone woman, damn.” Rhodey cuts in, clapping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. Sam gives Steve credit for hiding his flinch pretty well, but he steps over to push everyone away from him a little bit. Steve says his thanks by giving his hand a squeeze and after that the night goes on without a hitch. 

The kitchen is never unused and Sam sees Steve admit defeat for the first time when it comes to food since he’s met the man. Peggy and Carol drop in after an hour or so, and everyone warms up to them pretty quickly since that’s how lovely they are. It’s hitting the midnight mark and Sam’s sitting back on his couch with Steve in his lap, his arms wrapped snug around his middle. Peggy’s telling a story of how she once had to arrest a man for twenty minutes straight because he couldn’t believe she was actually an officer. 

Laughter is dancing through his living room, and Steve’s shaking against him in his own chuckling even though he’s heard the story times before. Sam squeezes him a little tighter and hopes they can find all this happiness in California. He knows he can’t replace any of them, wouldn’t dare try, but he hopes he can find people with their hearts in the right place is all. Sam’s pretty hopeful he can. 

* * *

 

Sam and Steve leave a day after that, and it’s a day of tearful goodbyes and hugs that Steve tries not to wince at. The two of them pile into Sam’s car and he pulls onto the road, only seeing their friends in his rearview and from the side of his eye; because, if he looks Sam knows he won’t go. 

On the road Steve sleeps most of the time, his snoring incredibly hard to drown out with the radio, sometimes Sam doesn’t try. They travel mostly at night to avoid any wrongful police stops, and stay in motels during the day. The two make it all the way across Texas when Steve finally draws the courage to speak.

It’s so late at night morning is right over the corner, the sky just starting to light. Sam jumps when he hears Steve’s voice. 

“It was one of the men I saw that time outside of the diner.” Steve begins, his voice already sounding haunted. 

Sam starts to turn to look at him, but Steve jerks his head and exclaims,  _ “Please _ don’t! I don’t — don’t look at me right now, please. I won’t be able to get through it if you do, okay? I just...you should know...what happened.”

Sam nods, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he wills himself not to cry. His baby doesn’t even want him to look at him.

“He saw me, and then there was a call about some man threatening to shoot a black man for stepping on his property. The man I saw at the diner happened to be the threat’s son. They called me a queer, backed away from me like I was diseased and that’s when I felt ashamed for the first time since being with you. And I didn’t want to come home to you cause I thought what we had would have been ruined.”

Steve gives an empty laugh. “Then I realized that was stupid, walked out of the station, and they jumped me.”

Steve recounts all the blows he specifically remembers. Sam cries silently, not taking his hands off the wheel, and not daring to look over at Steve. 

“I just remember holding that gun, and thinking,” He gasps a sob, and shakes his head, “And thinking I could kill them, you know? I could have, and I wouldn’t have missed. And that’s the scariest thing of it all. I’ve been an officer for years and I’ve never thought that before.” 

“But you didn’t kill them, and what you felt was understandable. It was. Don’t blame yourself for wanting to do that for a moment. It was only a moment, and the important thing is you pulled yourself out of it.” Sam says, surprised by how steady his voice is.

Steve sniffs, opening the glove compartment and blowing his nose. 

Sam looks out the windshield as day breaks, the sky a mix of soft blues and pinks. He taps his fingers on the wheel and pulls off for the motel advertised. They stop in the parking lot, and Sam takes a moment to breathe.

“Can I look at you now?” He asks.

Steve hiccups, “Yeah.” 

Sam turns in his seat and Steve stares at him with puffy red eyes from beneath his lashes. He offers a pitiful smile, and Sam’s heart jumps with love for this man.

“I’m proud of you, Steve.”   
“Really? Cause I couldn’t even loo-”

“That doesn’t matter. You told it, and now I’m going to carry you into this motel and get some good breakfast into you.” 

Steve laughs, and wipes his cheeks with the heel of his palms. “Okay. That sounds real good, Sam. I like that.”

Sam grins at him, “You’re finally starting to let me take care of you, huh?” 

“I guess someone has to.” Steve murmurs, a blush floating high on his cheeks.

“And I’ll be that someone for the rest of our lives, no matter where we are, no matter what comes our way.” Sam declares, his voice level and serious. He watches Steve’s lips purse as his eyes start to water again.

“And I’ll love you through it all.”

Steve smiles slow and beautiful, and repeats, “I’ll love you through it all.”


End file.
